


No More Waiting

by TheLawWon21



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1327906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLawWon21/pseuds/TheLawWon21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The want for rebellion in Panem has been simmering quietly throughout the Districts for years, waiting for a catalyst. The death of a small girl from District 11, and the emergence of a fearsome Victor in the 74th Hunger Games could be just that. Things are about to change in District 12. Gale POV. A/U Does not follow first book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games Series

Gale Hawthorne

I always loved the forest. It is my paradise, away from the sad realities that are the nation of Panem and much maligned District 12. It's where I get to be with Katniss, the most important person in my life other than my family. However things are different now. Now, I'm a miner. I spend six days of the week in the deepest, darkest pits of hell, providing coal for the benefit of the Capitol. I used to think that the thick layers of coal dust that covered the Seam were irritating, but it was really nothing compared to actually being inside the mine for hours at a time. Even now, in the middle of my favorite place, with the clear and refreshing air, I can feel the dust still sitting in my lungs, quickly removing days from my life.

The sad part is, that a life in the mines is some sort of sick prize. If you're lucky enough to make it to the age of eighteen without having starved to death or been Reaped into the Hunger Games, then it's a nice, safe, life underground for you. I knew from the time I was young that it was waiting for me. It was my future. I watched it steal my father from me, steal Katniss' father as well. It left our mothers widows and us and our siblings fatherless. And it made me a tough, bitter man; bitter towards the Capitol, bitter towards the rich merchants in town who don't have to worry about where their next meal is going to come from.

Today is my day of escape from the tolling labor. I crave these Sundays now more than anything. I walk casually over fallen branches and forest floor, already watching for wandering game, until I reach the spot where Katniss and I store our weapons. She isn't here yet which doesn't surprise me much. She still comes hunting every morning during the week even though she goes to school. I hate it that she comes out alone, and I hate it even more that she still splits her catch with my family. It may sound stupidly chauvinistic, but ever since my father died I've been the man of the house and provided for my family with the skills he taught me. Now, I have to spend my days in the mine, which pays a pittance, barely enough to support myself, let alone a whole family.

But I let her do it-let her help even though it takes a shot to my pride. The only reason is that the alternative is even more crippling to think about. The 74th Hunger Games have just ended, and I'm no longer eligible to be Reaped, but my siblings still are. If Rory, or eventually Vick and Posy, are chosen by that flighty Capitol escort then there isn't anything I can do for them. Which means that my only choice is to make sure that their chances are as low as they can get. I can't let them put any extra slips with their name into that stupid bowl of death. That means accepting help from Katniss and avoiding taking tesserae at all costs. At the least I have tried to convince her that she doesn't have to come on Sundays, but she stubbornly refuses. And though I argue, I'm secretly relieved because seeing Katniss is the best part of my week.

As I reach into the hollow log where we store our bows, I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching behind me. I've heard her steps so many times over the years that I know they belong to Katniss. I also know she's emphasizing her steps for my benefit, to let me know it's her approaching and not a Peacekeeper who managed to follow me into woods. We've become experts in stealth together, both in sneaking through the fence that surrounds the woods and in tracking down our various forms of elusive prey. Sure enough, when I turn around I see a bleary-eyed Katniss trudging towards me, game bag thrown over her shoulder.

"Good morning Catnip." I still, even years later, find it incredible that she hasn't directed one of her arrows at my back accidentally, even once. Especially with the way she despises Prim's damn cat. She looks back at me, casually pulling at her long, dark, braid, but it's clear she doesn't agree with my assessment that the morning is 'good.' "Or not. You look dead on your feet."

"That's probably because I spent all night with death lingering throughout my house," she replied.

I know immediately what she means. "Your mother had another patient?"

"Mmhmm," Katniss mumbles just audibly. "Not that there was any point to it. He was pretty much dead by the time he walked in, but his body just hadn't realized it yet. My mother did what she could, but he just coughed for hours until it finally stopped. Well past midnight."

"Sounds pleasant," I cringe in sympathy.

Katniss gives a groan of pure frustration. "I'm nothing but grateful that my mother is lucid is again, but we've had streams of people in our house lately and it's so depressing. I know I'm being selfish, but-"

"It's not selfish, Katniss." I interrupt, knowing how she can drive herself into a small frenzy. "No one should have to see that kind of thing everyday. It shouldn't be your mother who has to take care of everyone in the Seam. It's not your fault that no one can afford to see a doctor in town, or that we have to live in a place where the air slowly kills us."

We are quiet again for several moments after my own rant, which I know was hypocritical considering my purpose was to stop Katniss from having hers.

Eventually Katniss brings an end to the lull. "Will that be your only comments on the Capitol today or should I expect more?"

I can't help the small laugh that escapes me. "You know me, Catnip."

"So that's a no," she remarks, stepping forward to pick up her own bow.

Once we're ready we set off and get to work. Yesterday Katniss set some snares, so our first job was to check on them. Out of the four that she set, we managed to get two very decently sized rabbits, and a squirrel. We quickly stash them away into our bags, and I reset the snares for Katniss to check tomorrow. She does a good job with them, but I know that I can do them better. I don't remind her of that fact because she wouldn't be hesitant to remind me that she is slightly better than me with a bow. Only slightly-at least that's what I tell myself.

Sometimes we hunt side by side, but today we decide to try and cover more ground. I'd much rather, for my own selfish reasons, stay close to her, but the hunt is more important. Katniss goes left through a thicker concentration of trees and I go right and follow a stream. It's slow going to start with. I probably walk for about an hour, not seeing anything bigger than an insect. I've been this way many a time before so I have my favorite spots that I like to sit in and wait. Today, I choose a spot in between a small ring of bushes that gives me adequate cover. I sit in my blind, arrow nocked, but I don't apply any tension. My vision sweeps the area, searching for any sign of movement.

My waiting pays off. I see what looks like a small, brown ball moving slowly behind a tree. I can't discern what it is right away because it's about twenty meters off and blends in with the bark, but as soon as a see the small white tusks I recognize the wild pig. The pigs are pretty common as they breed heavily. This one isn't very large, but it's big enough that I don't pause in aiming my shot. There isn't any hesitation. As soon as my right arm stretches the bowstring to its farthest point, I release a fraction of a second later. I know my shot was true because I hear a short squeal and then nothing.

As I approach my target, I slip my knife from the sheath at my waste incase I need to finish it off. However, I see the arrow protruding from the center of its head and realize it won't be necessary. I pull the arrow from the pig and wipe the leftover gore onto the ground. Soon enough, I'm making my way back to our meeting spot and find Katniss already there, lying in the grass and using her jacket as a pillow.

"Took you long enough," she remarked as I got close enough to stand over her.

"It's barely been two hours," I respond, putting down my game bag, and taking a seat next her. "Shoot anything, or did you just come back here and nap?"

She keeps her eyes closed, but points over to where her own bag is sitting with a noticeable bulge in it. "Two more rabbits. It's not much but after I tried to shoot a tree stump and pile of leaves I realized my lack of sleep was affecting my judgment."

I just shake my head at her, though she can't even see it. "Then it's probably a good idea we split up. I was safer on my own."

"Shut up, Gale."

I decide that Katniss' current position looks appealing and settle myself down next to her, enjoying her presence. It's an amazing moment of peace where nothing else enters my mind, but the amazing surroundings and the pleasant company. I'm in a different place where the Capitol doesn't exist. Or I was until Katniss decides to open her mouth again.

"They're doing the Victor interview tonight-mandatory viewing as usual," she informs me. "I'm actually surprised it's so soon, with what the Careers did to him."

The 74th Hunger Games had ended just two days prior. I normally try to ignore the events that take part in the completely disgusting show that the Capitol uses to keep us in our place, knowing that it could have been me going through the madness. However, this year was different (not for the quickly killed Seam boy and girl tributes for 12) because I had by some miracle not been chosen in my last opportunity to be Reaped, even with forty-two chances. And also because Katniss had become emotionally invested in the contest when she saw the small girl from District 11 who reminded her of Prim and made it into the final four Tributes. She would have been better not doing so though. It was thoroughly sickening to see what the Career tributes from District 2 did to her when they found her. The Careers weren't quick or merciful, primarily because the girl, Rue, had managed to drop a hive of tracker jackers on top of them while they were sleeping.

It was District 11 that got the last word though. Unbeknownst to the Careers, the male tribute from 11 saw them standing over the carnage that was Rue's broken body. Unfortunately for them, he also wasn't a wisp of child like Rue. Thresh was eighteen, tall, and built like a brick wall, and he was absolutely enraged when he saw the remains. When Rue's cannon sounded, he completely ignored the fact that he was outnumbered two to one, and charged, a short, curved sword his only weapon. What followed is something that I'm pretty sure will never leave my mind. By the end of it, Thresh stood on his own, slashed countless times, covered in blood, with knives embedded in his torso. The Tributes from 2 were on the ground, lifeless, and no longer completely whole.

Thresh had been in such a rage that he had no idea that he had won the Hunger Games, if it can really be called winning. I actually managed a laugh when the hovercraft came to retrieve him. Instead of grabbing on to the ladder, he crazily ripped two of the knives out his abdomen and tossed them at the floating vehicle, one of them hard enough to stick in its hull. We have no clue what happened after that, because a moment later the feed cut out, and switched to a recap of the final moments. Though we didn't see it, I doubt Thresh went quietly, something I admire-anything to make President Snow's and people of the Capitol's lives uncomfortable. It wouldn't do at all to have a Victor not be appreciative of the fact that he gets to live, even if it means that twenty-three others don't.

"I'm looking forward to it more than other years. Although, if it was anything like his first interview, it will probably be short and uncomfortable. He didn't look like he was a fan of casual conversation," I note to Katniss, who still hasn't opened her eyes.

She immediately frowns. "The Capitol might not give him a choice. It wouldn't surprise me if they force-feed him lines. Especially because everyone saw him attack the hovercraft."

"Yeah, it wouldn't do to have people from the Districts try the same thing with a Peacekeeper," I mutter lowly, but Katniss still hears it, and this time she opens her eyes and stares at me harshly.

"It wouldn't Gale."

"Why Katniss?" I return, not backing down. "The Rebellion was over seventy years ago. Most of us don't have relatives who were even alive during it. The Capitol is sacrificing children for things that they have no responsibility for, whose parents have no responsibility. It can't go on forever. I still have almost two decades worth of worrying to do over whether one of my brothers or my sister is going to be taken. Somebody has to stop it, and I'm more than willing to help."

"Why does it have to be you, though?" Katniss asks passionately, her grey eyes flashing. "Let somebody else handle it."

I run my hand harshly over my face before answering. "Because how many people are going to think the same exact thing? Leave it to someone else, because I don't want to get my hands dirty. If that's the case then any rebellion is doomed from the start."

"Innocent people would die, Gale, a lot of them," she challenges again, continuing the argument we've had so many times.

I look at her critically. "They already are Catnip, twenty-three every year, not even counting the Quarter Quells or the people who die everyday because they can't get enough to eat. And it's not about forestalling a rebellion anymore, if it ever was. It's all just a fucking show to them. They even dress us up and put us in makeup before they slaughter us like it's some kind of privilege."

I know she's scared of the possibility of rebellion. I am too, but I'm even more scared of starving to death, of dying down in the mines like my father, of watching my brothers or little Posy being killed for fun. I don't even know what I would do if they tried to take Katniss. It's always been a possibility, one that we've contemplated, but that was just talk, meaningless words. My temper is something I can barley control as it is, I'd most likely break the nearest Peacekeeper in half, take as many down as I could before they could stop me. All for someone I love, but who wants nothing to do with those sorts of feelings.

Katniss was so scared for Prim this year in her first Reaping, but she knows she could still volunteer next year if it came down to it. Reality hasn't set in for her about what it will be like when she no longer has that option. It would be better to die standing tall against the Capitol with a sense of pride in a war instead of letting them keep us beaten down our entire lives. I know deep down she agrees with me. The death of her father and years of struggling to live have made her a fighter.

We're quiet again. Though we argue, it never crosses a certain line. We have too much affection for each other that developed over the years of dependence on each other. The Capitol has seen fit to make sure we have as little as possible, so it won't take our friendship as well.

"Would you consider taking Rory with you one day this week?" I ask her, changing the topic.

She shifts her body towards me, leaning her head on her hand. "If it's something you want. But I do like Rory, so if he ends up being better than you with a bow, I may take him as my new hunting partner."

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried Catnip," I smile at her lightly, enjoying when she returns it. I do love to see her smile. "Plus, Rory's a novice. I wouldn't say patience for teaching is high up on the list of characteristics I admire you for."

"Care to fill me in on what is on that list?"

Oh, if you had any idea. Well, I think she probably has a good idea, but there's no use in me saying it out loud because she wouldn't appreciate it. "Maybe another time. We need to get to the Hob." She just nods in acceptance, and I'm glad she didn't inquire any further into the Rory question. It's something I've meant to do, but unfortunately have neglected. It would be nice if Rory could hunt, but it is about more than that. It's always been about surviving, no matter whether that is surviving life in the Seam, surviving in the Hunger Games...or surviving in a rebellion.

As Katniss and I walk side by side back towards the, hopefully, harmless fence meant to cage us in, I can't help but believe that something is going to happen, something that will change the status quo. I know there are people like me who don't want to take the Capitol's oppression anymore. Maybe all they need is a push. Something about the end of these 74th Hunger Games, and the new Victor from 11 makes me think the interview tonight will be a push in the right direction.


	2. Chapter 2

   We're seated in my family's home in the Seam, enjoying dinner with Katniss and her family. All eight of us are crammed around a set of tables that we pushed together, even though I can't really say they fit well at all.  Half of us sit on chairs, while the other half sit on a pair of benches that Rory and I put together with spare boards from an abandoned miner's home and some nails I was able to trade for in the Hob.  Luckily my father had acquired a decent amount of functional tools before he died.

    I sit at one end of the table with Katniss to the left of me on the left-side corner of the table and Rory sitting on the other side's corner. My mother and Mrs. Everdeen sit next to Rory, conversing lightly, while Prim and Vick entertain Posy, who listens to them with rapt attention.  I suggested Katniss bring her family over while we were making our way back from the woods, and she was more than receptive.  My reasoning was that we could all leave together to go watch the Victor interview in the Square, and while she agreed with me, I think it has more to do with the fact that she and her mother are still uncomfortable around one another. There's nothing like having three other young kids around to break any family tension.

     I use my hand to pull a piece of tender rabbit out of the stew my mother cooked for us and place it in my mouth, savoring the taste and freshness.  The rich inhabitants of the District may never have to worry about going hungry, but I know for damn sure that nothing they buy from the market tastes as good as freshly killed rabbit.  As I go to pull another piece, I feel a hand under the table tap me on the leg. Instantly I look right, and find Rory's face in some sort of odd combination of forced-nonchalance and suppressed excitement. I stare at him and raise my eyebrows in silent a question.

   Rory leans over to me, his slightly too long, dark hair almost obscuring his eyes.  "Gale, can I go into the woods tomorrow?" he asks me, his control over his excitement slipping just a touch.

   "Why would you need to do that?" I respond with my own question, while also subtly making sure that my mother's attention is still focused in the other direction. I never gave Katniss a specific time to take him, but she must have decided sooner was better than letter--not that I disagree.

     Rory's eyes immediately shift across the table towards Katniss, before looking back at me. "Katniss asked me if I would go with her tomorrow since you're working in the mines."

     I don't need to look at her myself, because I can feel Katniss' stare on us.  "Do you think you're ready?"

     "Definitely, yes!" he answers immediately, looking ready to go here and now.

       Now I turn to Katniss. "Are you sure you want him with you Catnip?  He's been known to be a troublemaker."  He's really a good kid, but I am his older brother and that does bring good-natured teasing with it.

       She smiles conspiratorially at Rory.  "There isn't anyway that he could be a bigger troublemaker than Gale Hawthorne, so I think I can handle it."

       "Don't say I didn't warn you."  I turn back to Rory who is looking at me expectantly.  "If you're going, than you listen to everything Katniss tells you. There are more than just fluffy rabbits beyond the fence--things that bite harder." My words don't faze him. I knew they wouldn't, he's a miniature copy of me.

       "I'll listen," he says seriously.

       "Then I have complete faith in you," I finish, going back to my food, and ending the conversation before my mother overhears.  That discussion will happen later, and most likely loudly.  I'm actually glad that Katniss didn't mention that I told her to take him.  It'll give him some confidence to think she really needed him out there.

 

.............................................................................................

 

     Thresh's interview is set for eight o'clock. After we were finished eating we left and joined the horde of other Seam residents making their way towards the Square. If the Capitol thinks we're all supposed to be waiting in anticipation for their broadcast, then they are sorely misinformed.  The lots of us trudge through the streets crusted with coal looking like we would prefer to be anywhere else--especially those of us who have to be in the mines nice and early tomorrow.  I have to grind my teeth when I see the pristinely white-attired Peacekeepers walking by, knocking on doors to make sure all of their prisoners are complying with orders.

     We reach the Square at ten of eight, which is already filled to its outer limits.  The merchants all group toward the front of the Square near the Justice Building, while those of us from the Seam gather in the back. The large screens that the Capitol uses to sell us their bullshit aren't showing anything at the moment, which leaves everyone to mutter among themselves.  Rory and Vick are talking to friends from school, and I notice they've left Posy on her own behind them, and she looks like she's just about ready to fall asleep standing up.  I walk up behind her, and pull her up into my arms with ease. She's startled for a second, but she quickly relaxes and places her head on my shoulder.

     "Tired Pose?" I ask her.

     "Yep," she answers, although I can barley hear her because her thick hair is blocking the space between her mouth and my ear.  "How much longer is it gonna be Gale?"

     "Hopefully not too long," I say, although I really have no idea.  I look over at Katniss and Prim, and see they have as much enthusiasm as Posy. All of a sudden our attention is drawn, though, there's a slight buzzing, like the sound of electrical current, followed by a few loud thumps.  I look up on stage and see Mayor Undersee in front of a microphone, next to his daughter and a crowd of Peacekeepers.

   "Attention District 12!" He begins, waiting for any lingering noise to die down. "The broadcast of the Victor's interview will begin momentarily.  The Peacekeepers ask that you move forward as much as possible in case there are any...stragglers that need to fill in."  The Mayor steps back and stands beside his daughter, Madge.

     Sure enough, a moment later the screens flash a bright blue and obnoxious Capitol music begins blaring. I laugh when I feel Posy bring both of her hands up to cover her ears, wishing I could do the same. Looking back on the screen, that eccentric moron Flickerman walks out onto an illuminated stage to raucous applause. He waves and prances around until he takes a seat in an oversized blue-velvet chair.

   "Good evening nation of Panem! I am your host for the evening, and for the presentation of the Victor for the 74th Hunger Games, Caesar Flickerman!"  I listen to crowd in the Capitol go insane with excitement, while the whole crowd that surrounds me doesn't make a sound.  Flickerman talks and talks, and makes stupid joke after stupid insensitive joke, which we're forced to sit through, but finally we get to the main event.

   "Now ladies and gentlemen, it's time for what you have all been waiting _ever_ so patiently for.  I present to you the winning Tribute of the 74th Hunger Games, from District 11, _Thresh!_ " The crowd erupts once more and a spotlight materializes towards the right side of the giant stage. It looks like nothing is going to happen until Thresh finally steps into the light.  He's dressed cleanly in a well-fitted black suit, but he looks like he could care less about what he's wearing.  He gives the crowd a scowl, which says implies he wishes nothing but bad things on them.  Thresh walks stiffly towards the center of the stage and takes the empty seat. Flickerman had stood from his own chair, I think expecting a warm greeting, or handshake at the least, but that obviously was not happening anytime soon.  The host stumbles at the rebuff for a second, but quickly regains his poise and retakes his seat.

     "Thresh! Welcome, welcome, and let be the first of many to congratulate you on your truly spectacular victory in the Games.  I trust you have recovered nicely from that amazing final flourish you used to secure your place in history?"  It was not a rhetorical question, and I'm sure Thresh was well aware of it, but no words left his lips.  Flickerman waited as long as he could, staring his straight-backed interviewee, but eventually realized he was going to get nothing.  The crowd realized seemed to realize as well because they began to murmur awkwardly. "Well, well, our Victor is a little nervous, and I'm sure still recovering from his experiences in the games. Why don't we move onto the recap, _and then_ try questions a little later."

     The screen goes blank again, before video of the Games starts up.  It starts with all the Tributes in the arena circled around the Cornucopia, and then the screaming and death commences from there.  It's the same every single year, we recap every single death, every drop of blood spilled.  I still cringle and feel sick to my stomach every time, and in a way I'm glad. I never want to get to the point where I'm numb to the fact that this is happening, that these kids aren't going back home to their families ever again.  I never want to _accept_ that this is the way life is.

       The first couple kills pass until they reach the two Tributes from 12.  You can't even hear someone take a breath throughout the whole square. We watch the boy run towards a pack lying on the ground filled with valuable resources for survival. It's not too close to the Cornucopia, so when he grabs it, it looks likes he's going to make it into the woods. Unfortunately, the Careers were quick to grab weapons, and the next this we see is a spear sliding right through the boy's thigh.  He trips and falls to the ground, trying right himself, but failing due to his useless leg. Out of nowhere the girl from 12 comes running into the picture, stopping in front of her injured partner. The girl is barely five feet tall and must weigh thirty pounds less than the boy, but she valiantly tries to put him on her back.  It was brave, but it also turned them both into one giant target.  Another spear came, this one hitting its mark. It traveled through the boy's back and continued until it was protruding out of the girl's front. Just like that, both were gone.

     I don't know who starts it, but suddenly all of District 12 is raising three fingers in salute. The worst part of it thought, is that the silence is still lingering, and through it everyone can hear the anguish of the families.  Yes, as if it wasn't enough that they had to see it live during the games, the poor boy's and girl's family got to experience it all over.  Posy clutches me tighter, and although I don't think she completely understands, she feels the emotional wave going through us all.  I wish I could shield her from it, but holding her close is all I can do.

     The recap continues on and on, stopping on more suspenseful moments or more vicious kills. Then finally it comes to the showdown of the final four Tributes.  We watch District 2 mutilate little Rue, taunting as they do it.  We watch Thresh come out of nowhere to punish them. Then it's done, obviously no showing Thresh's meltdown.  The screen flashes again and Flickerman is back.

     "Wow, ladies and gentleman, what an exhilarating Hunger Games we were witness to this year, surely one of the best.  Now why don't we get back to the man of the hour?"  The crowd cheers and Flickerman leans back towards the emotionless Thresh. "So, Thresh, how does it feel to be the Victor?"

     I was expecting no answer again, but to my surprise, Thresh does offer a word.  "Empty."

       There's an odd moment where I can actually see Flickerman arguing with himself in his head. On the one hand, he actually managed to get Thresh to talk.  On the other, he has no clue about what direction it's going to go.  With great reluctance he continues.  "Empty, in what way?"

       Now, there _is_ emotion on Thresh's face and it's not anger, but closer to anguish, and it palpable.  "I couldn't save Rue."

     Again, Flickerman is hesitant. "Yes, she was a real competitor and she should be commended for her spirit. But the games only allow _one_ Victor.  I'm sure she would be very _happy_ that it was you who won."

     And just like that the anguish is gone, and the pure rage is back on Thresh's face.  "How would you know what Rue would feel?" He growls, standing again, looking like a caged animal.  "The last thing she felt was _pain!_ " The crowd here and there is absolutely stunned.

     "It _is_ unfortunate-"

     Whatever Flickerman was going to say is abruptly cut off when Thresh steps forward, grabs him buy his shirt collar, and lifts him into the air.  " _Unfortunate_! _Unfortunate?_   You think slaughtering a twelve-year old girl is _unfortunate_? You think taking her from her family was _unfortunate_?" Thresh shakes Flickerman forcefully.  "Your _existence_ and every other person here's existence is unfortunate.  We don't want to play your sick games anymore!" 

     The next thing we see is Caesar Flickerman flying through the air, up and over Thresh's abandoned chair, before the video feed cuts off again.  I knew there was no way that guy was going to put up with the Capitol's show, but he also probably just signed the warrant for his death. The crowd around me is restless, some of them emboldened by the recent display.  There are shouts and people are moving about.  I think I can hear the Mayor trying to speak, but it's drowned out in the ensuing commotion.  People are pushing their way around and I do my best to look for my family.

     "Gale! Gale!" I can hear my name being shouted, but I don't know by whom.  I turn in circles looking for familiar faces before I see Katniss running towards me.  "Gale, our mother's took the others back to the Seam.  We need to leave!"  I feel Posy shaking in my arms, and I know she is right. I follow Katniss' lead throughout crowd making her way back home.  When I'm walking through I can see Peacekeepers, most armed with batons, but others who have drawn their guns.  When I see them I pick up my pace.

       Fortunately the Peacekeepers seem to think us going back to our homes is probably for the best because they don't try to stop us.  We only slowdown when we can see our houses.  My mother is waiting on our porch, and Posy forces her way down and runs to her. I only relax when I see everyone is with her.  Katniss is still beside me and we've both stopped.  She reaches over and grips my arm.  I look down and see her biting her lip, almost shaking.

     "Things are changing Gale, this isn't the end of it," she tells me.

     "I know Catnip." That's all I can say to her. I knew something was coming, and it's just a start.  I want the change, but I can only hope we're all strong enough in the coming days to face it.


	3. Chapter 3

The previous night was a long one.  I tried to convince Katniss that she and her family should just stay with us, but they insisted they would be fine.  The noise around the Seam, and the noise permeating from town had lasted until around midnight, and only then was I able to lay down in my bed in sleep, albeit fitfully.  It's just about six in the morning now.  Work doesn't start for another two hours, but I want to be sure that I'm up when Rory leaves.

   I've fixed my self a large cup of herbal tea to help my mind wake up.  The warmth of the cup is soothing to my hands that are going to be worked to the bone for the rest of the day.  Looking out the window I can see light of dawn start to spread throughout the darkness. I feel like there might be a metaphor in there for what happened last night.  Before I have any time to explore those deeper meanings though, I hear a door open behind me followed by the sound of soft footsteps.

   I turn and watch Rory stumble into the kitchen.  He's wearing his most durable pair of tan pants along with a faded, flannel shirt that I think used to belong to me.  He had the foresight to carry his boots, so as to not wake anyone else up.  I gesture for him to take a seat across from me, which he does without question.  I slide my cup of tea over to him, and hand him a piece of the bread that I traded for at the bakery yesterday.  It's good stuff too. One of the baker's boys, the youngest one, was there yesterday, and he always gives us the freshest bread when he's there.  I'm pretty sure his name is Peeta, but he doesn't talk much, and I never feel the need to spare unnecessary words in conversation.  It's just business.

     Rory takes the bread and tea appreciatively.  "Thanks," he says, ripping off a piece into his mouth.  He chews and swallows quickly before gripping onto the still steaming cup. "Do you get used to being up at the crack of dawn, or does it always feel like this?"

     He does look like he could put his head down and fall asleep at the table.  "It'll get better," I say, leaning back in my chair. "Give it two or three years and you won't even notice it."

   Rory's head pops up at that, "Two or three years?"

   "Calm down, I'm kidding. Just try to go to bed an hour earlier and your body will adjust to it in no time."

   I stand up from the table, and walk over to the ancient clock that we keep sitting on the windowsill and see that it's just about half-past six.  Conveniently, at the same moment I see Katniss walking up the street. She's dressed in her normal hunting attire, bag slung over her back.  Normally we meet each other in the woods, and she doesn't look entirely comfortable with the change routine.  She sticks close the other houses around ours, eyes shifting around looking for any Peacekeeper patrols.

   "It's time Rory," I turn and say to him.  He nods, throwing back the rest of my tea, which I'm sure, scalded his throat, but it doesn't stop him. Now his tiredness is forgotten, replace by anticipation and he's on his feet in an instant, slipping his boots onto his feet. 

   While he's doing that, I pick up my game bag from next to the front door and take one of my spare knives out a cabinet and bring them over.  Rory looks at the items in my hand curiously.  "The bag is just for luck.  I'm not expecting you to bring anything down your first time out, but maybe you'll be a natural."  He takes the bag and throws the strap around his arm.  "This is more important though," I tell him, holding the six-inch blade up.  "Keep it hidden until you're passed the fence, so no one asks any questions. Once you're out there though, make sure you have it where you can reach it at all times.  I'm sure there are some snares out there I've forgotten about, and one bad step and you're hanging from a tree upside down."

     "Has that ever happened to you?" Rory questions me, looking almost hopeful, which I try not to take offense to.

     I take a quick look out the window and see that Katniss is still walking down the street.  "Don't tell her I told you this Rory, but when Katniss and I first started hunting together, she stepped in her own snare about a second after she finished setting the thing.  I had to climb a tree and cut her down."

     Rory's eyes almost pop from his head. "You're serious?  You aren't just trying to freak me out?"

     "Dead serious kid. And if you don't want _me_ to hang you upside down from a tree on purpose, then you'll never share that with another living soul," I state gripping his shoulders.  "She hit me _so_ hard when I laughed at the time. She's much more dangerous now."

       "I won't say anything Gale."

       "Smart kid," I answer, patting his shoulder.  "Let's go outside."

       Rory follows me outside, to where the rays of daylight have now taken it up most of the sky. Katniss is standing at the foot of the steps to our porch, and I can tell by the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the other that she is anxious to go.

       "Ready to go Rory?" she asks as we make it to the top step, where I stop walking, and Rory continues down.

         "Been ready since yesterday," he smirks, standing next to her.

         Katniss looks back up at me. "Be careful, today," she implores me.  I think she says it every time she sees me now.  She's told me she still has nightmares about losing her father in the mines, and now that I'm spending most of my time in the same place, I can tell it weighs on her mind even more now. I enjoy the fact that she thinks about me so much, but I wish it wasn't because she fears me being buried alive.

       "I will, but you two look out for yourselves."  I take a look around to make sure we're alone before I continue in a softer tone. "Triple check the fence today Katniss.  I doubt it will be on, but better to be safe than sorry after last night."

       She just nods. I know she would have done it, even if I hadn't said anything, but it makes me feel better. I would have spent all day in the mines with my mind preoccupied by the possibility that something bad was going to happen and I could have stopped it.  Not having your wits about you in place where the walls can literally collapse on you is not a good thing.

       Soon enough I'm watching the backs of Katniss and my brother as they take a shortcut between houses and avoid the main roads.  I'm glad Rory is going, because it'll make me feel better knowing he's better prepared. We all know that in Panem, only being fourteen years old doesn't protect you from anything. I just wish I could go with them. I'm pretty sure I can actually feel the trees and the fresh air calling my name, trying to lure me in. I shake myself of the temptation to run after them, and turn back towards my front door, immediately wishing that I hadn't.  My mother stands in the doorway clad in her bathrobe that had seen better days, with her arms crossed over her chest and that piercing look that only a mother can give to her son. Apparently they had not been as quiet as he thought.

     "Mom-" I begin, but I don't get far.

     "Gale Hawthorne, you better get in this house this instant, and explain to me where in the hell your brother is."  _Oh, that glare is deadly._

     I waste little time making my way back inside the house and taking a seat at the table. My mother practically stomps over, taking a seat across from me.

     "Well? Why hasn't your mouth started moving yet?" _Ok she is really pissed._

 I sit forward in my chair, considering my words carefully. I knew the conversation was going to have to happen.  "Rory is going hunting with Katniss, although I'm guessing you probably already figured that out."

     "I did, but my question is why? He's only fourteen Gale. I think you take for granted the fact that every time you go past that fence you're breaking the law. If anyone in power decided to stop ignoring it, they could shoot you without a second thought!"

     "It's always been a risk," I remind her.  "Dad knew that, and he took me out well before I was fourteen.  It's the only reason we have haven't starved like the Capitol wants us to."

     I notice my Mother's temper visibly cool, and the pain behind her eyes at the mention of my Father is evident. She doesn't continue talking right away, but shifts herself over so that she's next to me.  I'm caught off guard when one of her hands takes one of mind and her other hand comes up to rub my cheek affectionately. "You've taken on so much responsibility since your Father was killed Gale, and he would be _so_ proud of everything you have done--just like I am. But don't forget that you aren't your Father.  I'm still your Mother, and you are still my son-- _Rory_ is still my son.  You don't make choices like this behind my back."  _And, there is giant serving of guilt._

"I know," I concede quickly, gripping her hand that's still on my cheek, and looking her in the eyes. "This wasn't about trying to go behind your back.  I was going to tell you."

   "But why does Rory have to go into the woods all of a sudden Gale?  Is this all about putting food on the table?  Katniss has been providing us plenty during the week, and you still go on Sundays."

   I shake my head. "I know we're not in dire need of food at the moment.  This is just about the future, Mom.  It isn't fair that we put all the pressure on Katniss to hunt, and _we_ can't take for granted that she'll always be able to do it. It would help if Rory knew how to hunt and handle himself out there."  I pause for a second, knowing what I'm going to say next won't be pleasant. "I spend six days every week in the mines now.  We both know what that means.  The chances are really high that one of these days something could go wrong and I might not come back."

     "Gale!" she exclaims, and I can see tears in her eyes.  "Don't speak like that."

     "It's the truth. Everything Dad taught me would be gone if something happened, and I don't want that.  It gives us an advantage that we know the things we know, and it's worth the risk."

     "I don't question that Gale. I just wish you boys didn't have to put yourselves at risk."

     "We may not have a choice one of these days," I add reluctantly.

     "What does that mean?"

       I turn and look back towards the bedrooms to make sure Vick and Posy are still in bed. "It _means_ that eventually people are going to get fed up with this. At some point enough people are going to say 'no' to the Capitol and there's going to be a full blown war."

       My mother looks completely aghast at the prospect.  "Gale, they would kill all of us.  Look at what's left of District 13."

       "Maybe, maybe not. Where is it that the Capitol gets all of their fancy crap, all of their food?  They couldn't just destroy all of the Districts unless they wanted to leave themselves with nothing.  Can you even imagine them having to produce their own goods without us? I doubt they would know how."

       "Is this what this is all about?  Rory learning to fight?"

       I shake my head at her comment. "It's not about fighting, it's about surviving.  Rory is still only fourteen.  He still has years left to be Reaped, and the next Games will be a Quarter Quell. Last Quell they doubled the amount of Tributes.  They could throw a whole District worth of kids in if they wanted to.  I just want Rory to be prepared for everything."

       "I'm afraid about what they'll do for the Quell after what happened last night," my mother confesses. "The Capitol won't sit on their hands after being humiliated like that.  I'm glad that Vick still has another year left, but Rory and Primrose are still at risk for it."

       "They won't sit idle," I agree strongly.  "And if they go too far, it could mean complete madness everywhere." I won't say it because I know my mother would probably slap me, but part of me hopes they try it. Let them push their luck and see what happens to them.  It's probably a suicidal wish, but the part of me that wants to fight can't be clamped down so easily. My mother looks like she plans to continue the discussion, but the door behind us creaks open and we see Vick come walk out, stretching and trying to rearrange his hair which is all over the place.

     "I have to go, Mom," I say and stand up from my chair, reaching for my jacket and my lunch pail. "Tell Posy I said to have a good day."

     She reaches over, grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me down to kiss my cheek.  "I will.  Be careful Gale."  That's the second time someone has told me to 'be careful' this morning, like I have some measure of control over whether the mine decides to swallow me. They should tell it to the mine.

     As I walk past Vick on the way to the door, I rub his head and mess up the hair that he just managed to pat down.  He just grumbles, but doesn't mind it too much.  He'll mind later when he finds out Rory got to go learn how to hunt and he didn't.

    

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      There's already a queue for the elevator when I arrive at the mines, sitting at the base of the mountains. that surround District 12.  Whenever it gets too crowded down there, they simply blow a new seam for the miners to cut into.  I immediately see one my friends and fellow crewmembers waiting for me. Thom and I are same age and went to school together before we joined the mines.  He's a little shorter than me with the common seem look, but he's built even stronger than I am.  He can probably dig out more coal by himself then some entire crews pull out combined.

     "Good to see you made it out in one piece last night," he comments to me as we step into line next to each other.

     "Why do you say that?"

     "It got pretty wild last night. Some people refused to leave and the damn Peacekeepers started swinging at us."

     Now I'm especially glad we got out when we did.  "Do you know if anyone was hurt?"

     "Just a few bruises, nothing serious.  Although Bristel did trip and twist her ankle while we were running back.  I stopped to see her this morning and it was swollen up pretty good."

     "I guess she won't be showing up today then."  Bristel was another of our crewmembers.  She was a few years older than us.

     "No, she could barely walk when I saw her," Thom responds.  "I was going to stop by after work to check on her again if you want to tag along."

       "We'll see," I say noncommittally.  I don't know if I'll be able to delay getting home today to make sure Rory makes it home alright.

       We finally make it to the front of the line, and slip inside of the rickety, old elevator that takes everyone down.  The thing is ancient, and I just anticipate the day where it breaks loose and plummets to the ground. The sound of the sputtering gears is anything but comforting.  I switch the light on my helmet on, and gather my nerves as I do everyday, as the darkness surrounds us.

     Luckily nothing bad happens throughout the day.  The mine supervisors drive us hard, but the time passes quickly.  Soon enough, Thom and I are on board the elevator again, unhurt, but most definitely unclean.  The coal dust is everywhere, in every crevice and every pore of my skin.  Unfortunately, when we reach the surface, there is barely the sun is already disappearing.  I let Thom know that I really need to get home, and we make our goodbyes and set off in opposite directions.

     Although nothing remarkable happen in the mines today, there was plenty of chatter about last night. There were varying attitudes about Thresh's interview, but most everyone was envious that the District 11 tribute got to throw Flickerman.  There were some miners who were especially vocal about it, commending Thresh's words. We have family of fallen District Tributes working in our crews, and some of them whispered words that would never be said without consequence above ground.  It's hard not to sympathize with them.

       As I'm making my way home, I'm pleasantly surprised to see Katniss making her way down the street towards me.  She's changed out the hunting clothes she was wearing this morning into jeans and a sweater. We fall in line walking together when I catch up to her.

     "Some special reason that you wanted to walk me home today," I ask her lightly, though I can't help but smile at her.

     "I just needed to stretch my legs."

     "You go wandering through the woods every morning," I remind her.  "Are you sure you just didn't miss me?"

       She turns her head away from me, but before she does I can see her cheeks color lightly. "Maybe a little. It's hard only seeing you once a week after we've been together everyday for four years."

       "It's not any easier for me," I let her know, honestly.  She looks back at me, and just for a few seconds she gives me one those wanting looks that manage to slip through her mask of toughness and resolve that she keeps on so often.  She hates showing vulnerability, so I appreciate the times when she does, especially when its for me.

     I decide not to push it though, and change the topic.  "How was Rory?" I ask.

     "He was fine," she answers. "I showed him some of our favorite spots.  Then we worked on shooting for a while."

     "How many arrows did we lose?" I inquire.

     "Just a few. We spent most of the time with him just watching me."

     "I'm sure he learned a lot. He'll most likely talk my ear off about it tonight."  _Not that I really mind_

     Katniss nods at me. "He was definitely eager. I told him you could teach him about tying snares."

     "I'll do that."

       We approach my house and I can see Rory and Vick on the porch, either playing a game or doing schoolwork next to a light.  Katniss and I come to a stop a bit away from the house.

       "Want to stop in?" I ask her.

       She thinks about it for a second, but shakes her head.  "Not tonight. I promised Prim I wouldn't be long. Are you going to see Rory off again tomorrow?"

       "I wasn't planning on it. I can if you'd like me to."

       Again she shakes her head. "No, you should sleep in. You look tired. I'll see you later, though. Goodnight Gale."

       "Night Catnip." She walks away and I watch her go until she's out of sight.  As I approach the porch, Rory stands and begins telling me about his day. I'm instantly grateful that I can get some extra sleep tomorrow because I know Rory is going to keep me up tonight. I know it's worth it though. Every little bit of information I can pass on to him is an advantage.  _One he'll probably need someday soon._

      

 


	4. Chapter 4

    The next week in the mines goes by relatively quickly. Work is still draining, and the conditions are awful, but I endure it.  It was probably more difficult having to explain to Vick why he wasn't allowed to learn how to hunt yet.  He's still being moody about it.  It's Sunday and I'm getting ready to go meet Katniss, but I'm not sure what to do about Rory. He's still asleep I can't decide whether to wake him or not.  I know it's selfish, but he's spent everyday this week with Katniss, and today is supposed to be my day.  I realize instantly how stupid that is after I think it, because it isn't like I'm competing with my little brother for Katniss' affection.  No, I'm competing with Katniss for Katniss' affection.

     I walk across from my bed on one the right side of the bedroom to the other side, where Rory and Vick's beds are situated.  Rory is laid out on his stomach, completely out.  He's always been a heavy sleeper.  I take a seat on the edge of his mattress and try to shake him awake. After the first two light nudges aren't effective, I pull his pillow out from under his head and he jerks awake. He look confused for a moment before looks up and sees me.

     "What is it, Gale?" Rory whispers.

     "Are you coming with me to meet Katniss this morning?"

     "No," he mumbles, grabbing his pillow back from me.  "Katniss said I could stay home today."

     "That was nice of her," I tell him.  He could have informed me of it last night.  I just assumed he would.

     "I have some homework to finish for tomorrow anyway.  And I don't want to interfere with your _alone time_ with Katniss."  _Kids are too damn perceptive._

Rory, Vick and my Mother to a lesser degree all needle me about my relationship with Katniss, or lack thereof. I understand they do it because of how close we are, and how much we've depended on each other. The premise of their comments is what bothers me though.  Which is that I just can't admit my feelings to myself or directly to Katniss.  They haven't had to sit and listen despondently to Katniss trash the prospects of marriage and children because of the conditions we live in.  I honestly don't blame her for it, for wanting to lessen the chances of being hurt.

     Of course, I couldn't allow Rory's comment to go unpunished.  This time I pull his pillow and swing it at his head.  The small thump it makes is satisfying, but Rory just grabs it again a proceeds to go back to sleep.  I'll have to use something harder next time.

       The weather outside today is dreadful.  The sky is a depressing hazy grey, and a steady drizzle is coming down.  I've only walked a few minutes and my hair is already plastered to my head.  The wet ground has turned into a black, muddy mess.   The weather does seem appropriate for the day.  Today the Tributes return home.  Normally the mentors, former Victors, return home with the bodies of their fallen Tributes immediately after the presentation of the Victor. Apparently, this year the Capitol wasn't so eager to send anyone home quickly.  I'm sure everyone there was given a lecture on proper, Capitol-approved behavior.   I doubt it did anything to make Haymitch Abernathy any less of a raging drunk.

    I don't hear the tell tale buzzing that signals the prison fence is on, and Rory and Katniss didn't have any problems this week, but I won't chance it. I pick a stick off the ground that broke off a nearby tree, and toss it against the fence.  Nothing spectacular happens on contact, and it simply falls to the ground.  I slide my way through the inert cables and into the forest.  Katniss managed to beat me here today, as I find her sitting on a rock, fiddling with the string on her bow.  She doesn't notice me until I'm practically standing on top of her. She almost jumps up when she realizes I'm there.

     "Dammit Gale, don't do that!" Katniss shouts, picking up her bow from where she dropped it on the ground.

     "You should listen harder, " I admonish her and she scoffs at me.  "Something wrong with your bow?"

       "Not yet, but the string is getting frayed.  I'm going to have to replace it soon."

       "We should probably make more of them, especially now with Rory learning as well."

       "You should check to see if yours has dried out yet," Katniss tells me.

       I look at her in honest confusion. "Why in the world would my bow be wet?  It hasn't rained in the past few days."

       "Rory got so excited when he managed to shoot that squirrel yesterday, that he tossed the bow up in the air behind him.  It landed in the stream," Katniss recalls with a smile.

       "Hmm, he told me about the squirrel obviously, but didn't mention the bow."

       "He just wants to impress you, Gale.  You're his hero."

       "Hero?"

       "Yes. He talks about you all the time. Asks questions about the things you can do, whether or not he's doing things the same way or as well."

         Rory and I have always been close.  He was old enough when our father died, to feel the full impact of that loss, just as I was. He didn't handle it well and it took a long time for me to help him deal with it.  I would have probably have been the same as he was, but the responsibility of taking care of a family distracted me from a lot of my grief--that, and the undeniable anger.  I've always done my best to try and turn Rory into a good person and be a role model, so I guess I'm not that surprised that he looks up to me.  It just makes me want to protect my family more.

    "I started working on snares with him," I tell Katniss. "I let Vick try some too. Has Rory tried any? He didn't tell me."

     "He got a few of them rigged up. He needed a little help knowing where to place them, but otherwise they were fine."

     We set off together today. We check the snares first like always and reset them.  The haul is pretty good, because we caught three squirrels and a rabbit.  I threw them into my bag and we traveled deeper into the forest, where the trees are denser.  The going is a little slow because we have to duck and dodge branches, but half way through it opens up again into a clearing.  As soon as we step into it, my eyes catch movement ahead, and I place a hand out to halt Katniss from going any further.  Right in the clearing ahead of us, a group of wild turkeys are standing, no idea that we see them.  Usually we have to work a little harder, but I hear Katniss next to me lining up an arrow, so I do as well.  As soon my right hand begins drawing back the string I whisper, "Left," and pull and launch. Right after I let go, I can feel Katniss' arrow fly by my ear. The two turkeys that we targeted are dead on the ground, and the remaining one has taken off into the woods.

       Katniss and I each place a turkey in our respective bags, before we make our way back towards our meeting spot. On the way back we stop occasionally so Katniss can pick up herbs for her mother, and we also gather some wild berries.  When we reach our destination, I take our bows and place them back in the log and then take a seat next to Katniss, who is already snacking on the berries we picked. She passes them over to me, and I throw a hand full into my mouth.  The juice fills my mouth as I bite through their thick skin.  The little red berries are tart, but not to the point where they're off putting.  I take a few more and then I lie back, realizing I hadn't even noticed that the rain had stopped at some point.

       "They're coming back today," Katniss comments suddenly, bringing my concentration back.

       "I know."

       "Prim wanted me to go with her to the train station to show support for the families. I think she is friends with one of the Tributes' siblings."

       "What did you tell her?" I know the answer, but I ask anyway.

       "No. I can't be there for that. Prim is just too innocent, nothing like that shakes her.  I don't think I could take seeing them unloading one of those wooden boxes, because it would just make me think that next year I could be in it or Prim, and I'll be the one waiting to pick it up."

       "I won't let that happen," I say passionately, meaning every word even though I have to no idea how I would stop it.

       "There isn't anything you could do Gale."

       Now I sit up and look at her. "I would figure something out, anything."

       "They would kill she you before you could," she argues with me, eyes flashing.

       "It would be worth it," I offer back.  "I'd rather die standing on my own terms, then a slave to their will."

      "But _I_ wouldn't want that.  I don't want to live if you have to die for it," she practically yells at me, grabbing my hands.

       I sigh, the fight leaving me, and grip her hands back.  "This is all a fucking mess."

       "It is," she agrees, dropping her forehead onto my shoulder.

       "We could still leave," I state, moving my arm around her shoulder.  "I still mean it.  Let's just take our families and go.  We could go into the forest and find the ocean, and follow the coast south, away from the District."

         Katniss shakes her head against my shoulder.  "Nothing has changed since the last time you said it Gale.  There's a chance one of us may die if we stay, but those chances would be almost certain if we ran.  They wouldn't ignore eight missing people."

       "You're right," I acknowledge regretfully.  "I just wish _something_ would happen. I'm so tired of waiting."

 

      The Hob is almost deserted when we get there, almost like everyone wants to stay in his or her home and not confront the fact that the Capitol is delivering bodies today.  The only people around are the people selling things.  We walk through the rows until we reach Greasy Sae, who we sell one of the turkeys to. I leave Katniss to handle the transaction and take a walk around the Hob.  It's when I'm doing this that I realize that the train from the Capitol must have already arrived.  Walking into the Hob comes Haymitch Abernathy, dressed in fine clothes, but looking likes he has rolled around in them a few times, and with what looks like a developing black eye. He also looks unsteady on his feet, which really isn't anything new.  Neither is the fact that he walks over to Ripper, the District purveyor of white liquor.

     I don't know what moves me to do it, but suddenly I find myself walking over to him right as he's pulling out money to pay Ripper, who has already handed over two full bottles of liquid that looks like water, but burns going down like fire.  I would know from experience.  Moving closer, I keep going until I'm standing directly behind him. He must feel me there, because he looks over his shoulder staring at me like I'm a nuisance.  At least he knows who I am.  We've talked in passing a few times in the Hob, and he's actually shown his face in the Seam when some of the miners get together to get drunk.

     "What do you want, kid?" he mutters.

       I don't really know why I'm talking to him either, but something inspires me to keep going. "You're back already?"

     "Was supposed to be back a week ago."

     "Why weren't you?"

     "Why do you care?" he fires back.

     "Just curious."

     He stares at me, like he's trying to get a read on me.  "In case you missed it, there was a little...incident...during the presentation of the Victor. President Snow wanted to make sure District 11 was _secure_ before he sent anyone back."

     " _Is_ it secure?"

     "Ask the five hundred Peacekeepers that are stationed there now," Haymitch quips, reaching for his bottles. _That is a lot of Peacekeepers._

"And what of Thresh?  Is he still alive?"

     "Alive for now, later...who knows.  He's living under supervision at the moment."

     "Is he in District 11?"

     I think I've pushed my luck because Haymitch looks tired of my questions.  "That's enough kid."  He looks around the Hob, for what I don't immediately know. "There are ears and eyes everywhere.  Are you looking to get yourself shot?"

     "Why would it matter to you if I did?"

     "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks darkly.

     "It means, do you even care about those kids who get on the train with you every year? Or are they just a hindrance to your drinking?"

       Now I certainly have his attention, because he puts his liquor down and moves himself so we're face to face, just inches away, and I can smell the strength of the alcohol on his stinking breath.  "What would you know about it?"

     "I know that every time I see you, you wobble around like a fool.  I know that every year the District 12 Tributes look scared out of their wits, and have no idea what to do when they get into the arena or their interviews. I _know_ every year you show up with two wooden boxes." On the last one, I bend my head forward so close to his, that if someone didn't know better they would think I was trying to kiss him.

     He looks ready to kill, and I can't help but remind myself that he's a Victor, and actually has killed before. But I'm young, strong, and stubborn, so I don't move away even an inch.

     "Gale, what the hell are you doing?"  _That's Katniss_.  I look behind me and see her looking at the scene in complete confusion. She swings her head back and forth looking at the both of us.  Unfortunately, I shouldn't have turned _my_ head because the next thing I know, two strong hands are gripping my shirt and pinning me against the wall.

     "You think you got it all figured out, don't you kid?  Well you don't know shit about anything.  I could tell you things that would make your hair curl.  What ever you think you know is really one hundred times worse," he finishes before letting me go.

     "So tell me," I challenge him, fixing my bunched up shirt.  "Let me hear your stories."

     Haymitch looks amused at me, pretty close to full on condescending, and laughs a little.  "You got fire, kid, I'll give you that. You're not very bright, though." He turns to pick up his liquor again, and I think he's going to leave, but he turns back to me. He moves close and whispers. "You're a miner aren't you?" I nod at him in affirmation.  "Next Sunday, we'll see if you like my stories."

     "Where should I meet you, when?" I ask when I realize I need details.

     "I'll find you." That's all he says and he then he's leaving, but not before he takes a swig out of one of his fresh bottles.

     A hand comes out of nowhere, and turns me around, and I'm met with a thoroughly frustrated Katniss. "I'll ask you again, what in the hell was that Gale?  Everyone was watching."  She must realize that those same people are still watching because she grips my arm and steers me out of the Hob.

     "I'm not sure," I tell her completely truthfully when reach the open air.  I really have no idea why I started talking to Haymitch, but it obviously sparked something in him, and now I'm curious as to what. "We started talking and things just got out of hand.  He was drunk."

       "That isn't anything new Gale. You should have just let him be."

       Maybe I should have, but I swear there is something deeper going on with him.  I could see it in his eyes.  There was hate there.  Not hate for me, maybe some dislike and annoyance for me, but the hatred was for the Capitol. On the way back home, Katniss and I are quiet, not uncomfortably so, but the silence only breeds more curiosity about what awaits me next week.


	5. Chapter 5

   If I thought the mines couldn't be worse, then that was a complete misjudgment.  The light rain that fell intermittently on Sunday was just a precursor to a larger string of thunderstorms that have continued into Wednesday. The ground has become saturated by the inches of rain that have fallen in the past three days, and it drips down on us as we dig and hack away.  Our boots sink deeply into the ground, and the coal cakes onto our wet clothes. It's absolutely miserable.

     "Would you believe it, but there was a time that I actually looked forward to the day I got to come down here?" Thom asks from beside me, where he's shoveling coal into a giant metal bin. He stops for a second, sticking his shovel into the ground and wiping sweat from his brow.  "I must have been out of my damn mind."

       "We were all stupid and naive when we were younger," I console him, swinging my pick into the wall.

       "Some of us were more stupid then others," Bristel jokes, clearly looking at Thom, who just raises his eyebrows.

       "You didn't even know me when I was younger, Bris," Thom reminds her.

         She just shrugs. "Call it an educated guess based on current behavior.  How about it Gale?  You were in school with him."

         "Leave me out of your flirtations," I tell her, and she gets a sour look on her face.

         "Don't make me sick Gale."

          "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Thom questions her.

           Before she gets a chance to answer our crew leader, an older man, stocky with salt and pepper hair makes his way over.  He's got the same disdainful look on his face that he usually has.  Old Sanford has been in the mines for years, and at some point he was promoted to crew leader, most likely by default that he was still alive. However, he makes more money then most, and the position and responsibility has gone to his head just a bit.

         "Do any of you hooligans actually work, or just sit around and talk?" he frowns at us. He's holding a clipboard in his hand to keep track of the bins that are filled during the day. He looks unhappily at the one that we are working to fill.  "Apparently not."

         "Would you stop worrying boss?" Thom asks him, picking up his shovel again.

         "It's not me who should be worried.  See how you like it when you don't get paid because you're slacking off," Sanford threatens.

         "As if I would be missing much," Thom tries to whisper so only I can hear. It doesn't work. Sanford comes trudging past me, clipboard tucked under his arm and stands right in front of Thom.

         "You'd miss eating, you ungrateful little-"

         Sanford stops speaking, and we all stop moving when we hear thunder echoing down the elevator shaft and through the mine.  Several shorts bursts come one after the other and I think I can feel the ground trembling, or that could be my own heart beating faster, I can't tell.  It goes on for several more seconds before it seems to stop. We all look around at each other, silently asking if we think that's it.  Sanford seems to think so because he begins talking again.

       "All of you get back to work," he orders before turning to walk back to walk to a different spot in the mine.  He's still within our sights when something else happens.  Instead of the small echoes of thunder from earlier, there's a gigantic boom that reverberates around us.  While before I couldn't tell, this time I know the ground is shaking because rock begins falling around us and above, smacking into our helmets. I think I feel absolute fear for the first time in my life when I see the look on Sanford's face. His mouth has fallen open, his eyes are wide, and I can't hear him, but his lips are mouthing one unmistakable word. _Run._ And then he's gone, heading back towards the elevator.

       I turn and realize that Bristel and Thom are still standing frozen.  I do the only thing I can think of and grip them both by the arm and begin pushing them forward.  We're at the end of the cut, so I know no one else is behind us and I run behind them as the ground continues to shake and protest.  I keep my two crewmembers is in sight ahead of me as I run behind them. Unfortunately while I'm running I'm paying more attention to the chunks of rock falling from the mine's ceiling instead of the ground in front of me because I miss the shovel lying abandoned.

       My right foot catches on it, and then I'm flying to the ground, my helmet falling off and landing under me so that it buries into my stomach when I hit.  I immediately grip my stomach and chest, trying to regain the breath that has been evacuated forcefully from my lungs.  I struggle to my feet, no longer able to see Thom or Bristel. No, I couldn't see them, but I do see the wooden support beam beside me snap as it comes to smash into my forehead, followed by the avalanche of rock.

 

       When I wake, the first feeling I have is one of severe pain.  My head throbs something awful and I can feel what I can only think is blood running down my face.  I lick my lips, and verify that thought when I taste the coppery liquid.  Even more terrifying is the fact that I can't move my arms and legs. I open my eyes slowly, and though I was expecting pitch-blackness, I'm surprised when there is a source of light coming from somewhere behind me.  Obviously one of the lanterns that light the mine paths is still functioning. And while there may still be structural soundness behind me, that certainly isn't the case in front of me. 

     The top of the mine looks like it is still up, but the left side has broken.  The collapse must have hit me hard because I landed on my back, buried up to my neck in rock.  The rock is heavy and it weighs my limbs down.  I think I've lucked out though because although I can feel cuts in my skin and soreness, nothing feels like it has been broken. That drives me to try and move. I attempt my arms first, pushing my muscles harshly until their protests cannot be ignored and I have to cease the effort. Instead of trying to move my arms again, I use my legs.  They aren't completely straight, so I push them against the rock in front of them as powerfully as I can.

       With my legs, I'm able to propel my body backwards almost half a foot, enough that I'm able to free my arms. I realize that I'm still in a very precarious position because I'm at the bottom of a slope, and that if I try to go too fast I could cause another shift and be buried completely. In combination, I use my arms and legs to slowly push myself back, allowing rock to slowly fill the empty spaces that my body used to occupy.  In a matter of seconds, I'm out and staring at the pile of earth between me, and the only exit.

     I start to take deep breaths to prevent myself from hyperventilating, but a second after I stop because I realize I could have a limited supply of oxygen.  I've never felt more closed in and alone that I do at this moment. There's no way of knowing if this collapse was the only one, or whether the elevator shaft caved in. If it has, then there is absolutely no question I'm going to die down here, alone.  I know immediately that I have to make myself do something or I'm going to lose it at any moment.

     I walk over to a spot in the mine where a steady stream of rainwater is falling from the ceiling and place my head under it.  The cool water stings the open wound on my head, but begins washing the blood and grime off my face. I cup some in my hands and use it to clean off my arms as well.  After I've kept my mind occupied with something else for as long as I can, I'm left sitting against the wall, with no idea about what to do and the reality that this could be it.  This is the thing that I've dreaded since the news came about my father that awful day. There is absolutely no comfort in the fact that I may be spending my final moments in the same place that he did.

     At some point I must have rested my eyes and fallen asleep because I shake myself awake some time later, although I have no idea how long its been.  It's still absolutely silent, not counting the steady drips of water still coming down. My head still throbs and sometimes it's so bad that my eyes tear up.  The muscles in my back, and arms, and my legs are all sore, and lying upright against the wall hasn't helped.  I decide to stand and stretch, and slowly make my way back towards the end of the tunnel where Thom, Bristel, and I have been working.  There are a few spots where the walls have crumbled, but overall everything is still standing.

     I spot Thom's thermos sitting by the metal coal bin, and find it partially full.  I take a sip, enough to wet my throat before putting the rest away. There isn't much of anything else, other then mining tools that are of any use to me.  I move back to the location of the cave in and sit back down. I sit, and then sit some more, and I can feel my emotions starting to get the best of me.  The chances are overwhelming that I won't be leaving this place. If there was a collapse here, there's a good chance there are others and I'm no priority over anyone else. Bad thoughts start to seep into my mind. I wonder if it would be easier just to end things quickly, instead of just wasting away from hunger or lack of air. The prospect of tying my shirt around one of the wooden beams and then around my neck becomes intriguing...only for a second though.

      I realize I'm being selfish by thinking about taking the easy way out. What would happen to my family if I died?  My mother would be on her own, unable to support everyone just by washing clothes. Vick would be devastated. Rory would try to be strong for everyone, but he's not ready for the responsibility of taking care of everyone. Posy, I can't imagine leaving her. She never even got to meet our father, and I've tried to be that strong presence in her life. The thought of her sweet, innocent face crying is almost enough to break me.  And Katniss...I'd never get the chance to convince her that loving each other would be worth the hardships and pain it could bring.  I'd never get the chance to kiss her, even just once.

       That last thought is enough by itself to stop me from giving in to my fear.  The rest of the mine may very well be completely impassible, with no hope of getting out, but the only way to know that is to find out for myself.  I grab onto one of the shovels, and confront the wall of rock and coal head on.  I ignore the strain on my muscles, and my painful joints to begin moving piles of earth.  I realize that it would be physically impossible to move entire pile, so instead I decide to start high up and try to flatten the slope.  The only downside is that my feet are planted at different heights, meaning my balance isn't the best.  I have to dig my boots in almost up to my ankles after I almost tumble backwards two or three times.

       The difficulty of the task I am undertaking becomes clear after a few hours.  I've manage to flatten about ten meters of the rock to the point that I can walk without hitting my head on the ceiling, but I still can't see any open space ahead of me.  I continue on for another hour or so, but after that I'm too exhausted to continue. The water from Tom's thermos is quickly finished off, and I refill it with rainwater.  The water is refreshing, but I've burned through so many calories and I have nothing to replenish them with.  This only feeds my need to rest.

       The time goes by in cycles. I dig for a few hours and then rest for a few hours.  I have absolutely no idea how long I've been inside this mine, and it's beginning to wear on me significantly.  While my heading isn't pounding as much, there are times when I get dizzy, which is even worse. I have to stop myself from throwing up, because I know my body couldn't take losing anything else. I'm sweaty, and dirty, and to the point where I am losing my drive to continue.  I know I've covered a lot of distance, but the tunnels are long, and I'm not anywhere close to the entrance.

       Soon enough, the time comes where I can longer grip the shovel.  It was inevitable with the weight and amount of material I've moved in a short time. I briefly consider continuing on using my hands, but discard that idea because I know I will only end up with broken and torn fingers.  I'm quickly to the point where I have no more choices left to make.  I can only sit and wait.  My stomach is cramping, begging for food that I can't give it. I've never felt as bad as I do at this moment.  To try and counter that I think of anything I can other than being in the mine.  First I think of my family, then of Katniss, then of the freedom of the forest outside District 12.  If I had to die, why couldn't it be there?

     I'm honestly a little surprised that I wake up again, and a part of me wishes I didn't. That is until something draws my attention.  At first I swear I'm hallucinating, but then I'm not so sure.  I hear what sounds like the clang of metal and the echoing of voices.  I eventually decided that it isn't my imagination and I'm using all of my remaining strength to pull myself up.  Running up to the rubble where I stopped digging I yell as loudly as I can.  At first I hear nothing, but then I can hear voices responding to me. That's all it takes for the remaining strength that is left in my tired body to resurface. I stop yelling because I already know that other know I'm alive and trapped.  I grab my shovel and start moving ground again, opting to go faster by taking smaller amounts.

     It takes another hour, but eventually the tools being used on the other side become so loud that I know they can't be far.  Then, the level of rock actually is to the point where it no longer touches the ceiling. I climb on my hands and knees to the highest point and throw my arms through the gap.  I can't see over, but there is more scrambling. I almost cry when I feel another pair of hands grip mine strongly.  And then I'm being pulled through the opening, until I see the crowd of people on the other side, all with shovels and looking on in relief. Once I'm over, another person beside me grabs my shoulders and brings be to my feet.

       "Gale!" I look through the crowd until I see Thom and Bristel who seem to be beside themselves with relief.  They both rush over and grip onto to help me through the rest of the mine, which looks a little battered, but not destroyed.

     "What happened?" I rasp out.

     "There was an explosion," Bristel explains.  "Lightning struck a fuel tank and it blew.  People said there was a giant fireball when it happened, but it was still burning strong when we got out."

     "We're _so_ sorry we left you Gale," Thom stammers, visibly upset. "By the time we got to the elevator and realized you weren't there, the wall had come down."

       "It's fine, I don't blame you," I assure them.  "It would have done no one any good staying and getting killed yourselves. Did it get anyone?"

     "Three," Bristel responds solemnly.  "None were from our crew. They were all working on the opposite side and got crushed."

       I feel grief for them and their families, but another part of me is thankful it wasn't me. It makes my whole predicament, and the closeness of my demise all that more real for me.

     "What day is it?" I finally question.

    "It's Saturday, probably going on five o'clock now," Thom states.  "The explosion knocked something off with the elevator and it had to be fixed before we could get down...not to mention the fire that had to be put out."

   I was in the mine for three days. I survived three days in the mine by myself.  It's almost impossible to wrap my mind around it.  I can't understand why the mine has claimed so many others, but it spared me. It makes no sense. I'm not worth any more than those other people, more than my father.  I can't explain it, but I've never felt more alive than I do at this moment.

     The ride in the elevator is amazing. I can feel fresh air coming in from above us, and it gets brighter and brighter as we move up and up. Then we're there, on the surface. The doors open and I'm taken aback, first my eyes by the brightness of the sunlight and then by all of the people. I think most of the Seam is standing around just waiting for news.  I even see some of the others from town.  Some of the other miners are there, and they see me first and immediately a cheer goes through the crowd when everyone realizes I'm alive.

     The sun and the support from those around me are like a stimulant and I feel reinvigorated, even though my body still feels beaten.  I break away from Thom and Bristel who were still holding me and look around for those I most want to see.  It takes me only a second to find them.  I lock eyes with my mother who is crying freely, her hand over her mouth.  She's been through this once, and she obviously didn't think I would be coming back either.  I make my way over as fast as I can and hug her with everything I have. She just keeps repeating, "You're back," into my shoulder, and kissing my cheeks, and I let her because she's my mother and I need this as much as she does.

     Eventually, I feel someone hugging my leg, and look down to see the top of Posy's head as she grips me fiercely. I reach down and lift her up like its nothing.  "Everyone said you weren't coming back," she cries, and I hug her as well, trying to soothe her. After a few minutes, she calms and I set her down turning to my brothers.  They both look red-eyed, but I don't point it out, instead moving first and gripping them both in a group hug.  Us being men, we don't say anything, but it doesn't feel necessary right now.

     We step back from each other, and I turn to the other two people standing with my family. This is the moment when I'm both confused and hurt by what I see.  Prim steps up and hugs me tightly, and I hug her as well.  Then Mrs. Everdeen, who I am a little surprised is here with her history after her husband's death, steps up and hug me as well.  She reaches up and touches my forehead where the beam hit me. "This needs stitches, and to be cleaned out or it could get infected," she informs me. I nod at her, fully intending to let her do it after I figure something out.

     I look back to Prim and raise my brows at her, and she automatically knows what I'm asking. "Don't be mad at her Gale," Prim begs me.  "When she found out the mine had collapsed during school on Wednesday, she ran. She's been in the woods ever since and won't come back."

       "I checked on her and took her clothes and a sleeping bag," Rory adds from next to Prim.

       People are yelling after me, but I don't really care right now.  I've just spent three days in hell, and words have no affect on me. I'm running, even though my legs are cursing me to halt.  I brush past people rudely, but all I can do is mutter a quick apology and keep going. When I get to the fence, I don't even check it to see if it's on.  I simply pull myself through and run.

     She's where we normally meet. Her hair is free and blowing wildly in the breeze, and her clothes are wrinkled, but she's still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  What concerns me is the fact that her eyes look dead.  I approach slowly, because I don't want to startle her, but when I get too close her eyes turn to see me.  They open wide and her mouth opens in shock.  She gets on her feet and begins backing away from me.

     "No.  No! You're dead.  Gale Hawthorne is dead."  Her first words were said with conviction, but that conviction tailed off towards the end. I don't let her back away any further by gripping her by the waist and bringing her lips to mine.  She's still at first, completely surprised evidenced by the gasp of breath she lets out, but then her hands come up and grip the back of my head holding me where I am.  Her lips move on mine and I don't even know how to describe what I'm feeling. But if I have to survive three days underground for _this_ feeling to happen again, then I'll gladly do it.  Eventually we break apart, and I rest my forehead against hers.

     "You're alive," she whispers to me.

     "I'm alive," I confirm and embrace her tightly.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The morning after my escape from the mines is absolutely brutal. My forehead stings, my joints ache and my fingers are swollen to almost double their size because of the vigorous digging over three days.  However, the pain is mitigated substantially by the fact that I'm still holding Katniss' hand tightly in my own.  We sat in the woods yesterday for another hour before Katniss insisted her mother take care of my wound. When we made it back to the Everdeen's, my whole family was there waiting.  My Mother chastised me half-heartedly for running away after my ordeal, but softened even more when she saw Katniss' hand enclosed in mine. I'm extremely thankful that no one said anything about it, especially Posy, because I could tell she desperately wanted to.  Her silence won't last forever.

     Mrs. Everdeen stitched my head up expertly, and then gave me some horrid tasting concoction of herbs that eased my pain and also made me only partially lucid.  Katniss and Prim fixed me food, which, after three days, tasted like the most amazing thing ever cooked.  However, after the mixture of food and herbs, I was done for. I have vague recollections of being helped over to Katniss' bed and then passing out.  Which means I must still be in her bed.  I crack open my eyes and sure enough, I don't recognize the room as belonging to my house.  My gaze shifts to my left and I see Katniss curled up on her side, her mouth open just slightly as she continues to sleep.  I think it's the first time I've seen her sleep and for some reason I'm mesmerized by it. Maybe because when she sleeps, it's the only time when she doesn't feel the weight of so much responsibility on her shoulders.  That's something I can relate to well enough.

     Her hair is out the customary braid she keeps it in, and is falling into her face.  I'm about to reach over and sweep it away, but I stop my hand inches away.  I understand that she kissed me back yesterday, and that I'm in her bed lying next to her, but we didn't really talk yesterday.  I have no idea how much of what happened was just pent up emotion, and relief over the fact that I wasn't dead.  I want to be with Katniss.  I have for the longest time, but I don't want it to feel forced.  I finally decide to chance it, and brush the hair out of her face. Her nose scrunches as my rough fingers sweep along her forehead gently.

     Her eyes open slowly until she is staring back at me. I'm afraid she'll pull herself away, but she doesn't.  "Good morning," I whisper.

     "Is it morning?" she asks.

     "I have no idea," I answer honestly because I haven't even taken a look out the window, and I have no idea exactly what time I fell asleep yesterday.  I glance up and see the first light of dawn. "Seems that way. We should have been up and in the woods by now.  We're slacking."

     "Gale," she starts, looking at me exasperatedly, "you've been trapped in a mine for the past three days.  You aren't going anywhere."

     "Eager to keep me here are you?" I challenge, unable to help myself, and the accompanying smirk.

       She stares at me for a moment, her cheeks lightly red.  "Maybe."

       I know I can't put off this conversation.  "Listen Catnip, this has been a crazy last few days for me, so I'm not going lie to you. What happened with us yesterday was something I've wanted to happen for a while, but..."

       "What is it Gale?"

     I turn onto my back and look away to the ceiling because what I'm going to say pains me.  "Katniss, in all the time I've known you, you've never wanted anything like this.  Hell, you've been completely against it.  I don't want you to think there has to be something between us just because we both thought I was going to die.  I don't want you to force yourself into something."

       I feel her hand on my chin pull my face back towards her.  "That _was_ how I felt," she admits, "and I still have the same concerns about getting close to someone, and having kids one day in this awful place.  But I also realize, that if I ever was going to experience those things in my life it would be with you.  And you're worth the risk."  That was good enough justification to push back my concerns for the moment. Katniss then leaning over and kissing me deterred them even more.  My right hand immediately travels through her thick hair and to her neck. It then begins moving down her back until I hear a creaking floorboard and stop.

         Katniss and I pull apart quickly and turn our heads to the doorway to her bedroom.  There, looking back at us with wide eyes is Prim. She had clearly been trying to sneak by unseen, as she was standing on the tips of her toes. All of us just looked at each for several moments in silence.

       "Um, sorry," Prim stutters, "I was just coming to get a change of clothes."

         "You don't have to apologize Prim, its _your_ room," I say, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. I instantly regret doing that so fast though, because I'm hit by a wave of dizziness.  My head falls into my hands to try and stop the sensation. I feel Katniss next to me, her hand rubbing my back.

       "Does it hurt?" she asks.  
        I have to stop myself from shaking my head.  "No, I'm just a little dizzy."

         Then I feel another, smaller set of hands on my head, forcing me to raise it.  I see Prim with a serious expression on her face, and she begins running a finger over my stitches.  "These are good," she declares.  "No more bleeding and the swelling is down.  I'll make you a cup of tea with some herbs that should help with the light headedness."

       I grab onto Prim's hand and plant a light kiss on the back of it.  "Thanks Doctor Prim."  She simply blushes, grabs some clothes, and exits the room. "She would make a great doctor," I tell Katniss.

     "She would," Katniss agrees.  "I wish she could go learn in a good school, and work in a big hospital.  It would make her _so_ happy. She's so much better than this life."

     "Maybe one day she will."

     "Maybe." She says it, but I can tell she doesn't believe it at all.

     I stand up and grab her hand, pulling her with me out of the room.  We walk into the kitchen, and Prim is just pulling a teapot off the stove. She pours the dark green liquid into a cup and hands it to me when I sit at the table.  The tea is hot, and bitter, but it has a subtle calming affect on me that _does_ help my head. I sip contently, and note that Mrs. Everdeen must still be sleeping or out early for another patient because I don't see or hear her.  After I've finished, I decide it's time I get back home, because I haven't forgotten about my meeting with Haymitch.  Katniss, of course won't let me walk alone for fear I might pass out again in the middle of the street. Normally, I wouldn't be thrilled with the idea of being escorted up the street like a child when I'm perfectly capable, but Katniss' arm circled through mine is enough incentive not to complain.

       We walk slowly through the streets, enjoying the warm and clear weather, but we live so close that it only takes five minutes before we're standing at the stairs to my porch. It's only seven, still early for a Sunday morning in the Seam, and I can't hear anyone moving around inside.

     "You should go inside and rest all day.  Get your strength back," Katniss tells me.

     "We should have just stayed in your bed all day if that was the case," I joke, all though it doesn't sound like a bad idea at all.

       "I think our mothers knowingly allowing that to happen was a one time thing.  Or maybe only after near death situations."

       "You should have left the last part out.  I may not be able to resist the temptation of doing something stupid and dangerous if that's the end result," I state, clasping my hands behind her back.

       "Well I'll promise to do this," she starts, before reaching up and kissing me quickly, "if you promise _not_ to do anything stupid and dangerous."

       I shake my head. "You know I can't promise that Catnip.  I'll be back in the mines at some point.  And anyway, I don't think you could stand not kissing me."

     "I went sixteen years without it, care to test me?"

     "No, not really."

     "I didn't think so. I'll stop by later, okay."

     "Sure Catnip." I lean down and kiss her one more time, my lips lingering on hers for several moments before we break away. Katniss smiles at me, genuine happiness in her grey eyes that I wish was there all the time, and starts walking back towards her home.  As I'm about to turn back to go inside another voice stops me in my tracks.

     "Well if that wasn't the sweetest thing I've ever seen."  I know the owner of the voice instantly by their sarcastic and slightly disgusted tone. I turn and see Haymitch leaning against my neighbor's home, arms folded against his chest.  He smirks at me, and I have to resist my initial urge to hit him, knowing he was probably standing there the whole time while Katniss and I said goodbye.

     "Abernathy. I'm actually a little surprised you showed up."

     "I was sure as hell surprised when I heard they pulled you out of the mine yesterday," he confesses. "Thought I might have cleared my schedule out for today."

       "And what does someone like you have to do on Sunday, other then sit in their giant house and drink themself stupid."

       "You may not count that as doing something, but _I_ do. I see your cheerful personality hasn't improved since last week."

       "Are we here to insult each other, or did you have something to tell me Haymitch?" I ask, tired of the back and forth.

       "Your mine ordeal hasn't left you unable to walk has it?" Haymitch inquires finally moving towards me.

       "I can walk just fine, but why would I need to?"

       "Because we for damn sure aren't standing in the middle of the street and talking. I'm not looking to be arrested today. Follow me."

       He walks away, obviously expecting me to go with him.  I stand still for a moment weighing whether or not I should go with him when I have absolutely no idea where he is leading me.  However, my curiosity needing to be sated wins out and my feet start moving quickly to catch up.  We start up one of the main roads in the Seam, but Haymitch makes a sharp left turn into off the street and towards the meadow that separates us from the woods. We go for another five minutes, now well away from town until we're walking along the inactive fence.

       Haymitch leads me into a thick copse of trees on this side of the fence and then suddenly stops. I think this is where he plans to talk, but he looks towards the ground and starts moving brush around with his feet. At this point, I'm pretty sure he's crazy, drunk, or both.  Next thing I know, he's found what he's looking for, which looks like a thick black stick. He reaches down and grips it, pulling it towards him.  I'm surprised when a square patch of ground lifts up, dirt falling off to reveal a wooden hatch, which is covering a large hole in the ground.

     "Alright kid, get in."

     He looks at me expectantly, but this time I don't move anywhere.  "You want me to get into a dark hole in the ground, away from everyone with no one knowing where I am?  That doesn't sound suspicious to you?"

    "You're not as brave as I thought."

     "Or just less stupid."

     "Point taken," Haymitch nods.  "I'll go first, just pull the cover back on your way down."  He walks forward, and when he doesn't just jump in, I realize there is a set of stairs.  Once he's half way down, I move closer to the top step.  Haymitch makes it down and lights something, which makes the steps easier to see. I pull the door down behind me and make it down to the bottom to see a large carved out room and table, which Haymitch is already seated at.  In front of him sits a lantern, which is our only source of light, but it's enough to get a good look at the surroundings.  The room is empty except for the table, chairs and some empty liquor bottles. However, I can see another dark path off of this main chamber.  Instantly my mind reels back to my past days in the mines, and I have to take a seat to try and collect myself.

     "Too soon to be underground again?" Haymitch asks seeing my discomfort.

       "A little. I'll be fine."

       "One good thing about _winning_ the Games, was never having to set foot in those mines.  I was on my way there just like you before I was Reaped."

       "I don't think you can complain much about the money and the big house."

       Haymitch leans his elbows on the table looking me straight in the eye.  "Kid, the money and the house, all that stuff is for the people in the Districts--to make it look like there really is a prize at the end of the madness that is the arena.  It's just to distract from the reality that Games are a ritual sacrifice for the Capitol.  You're much better off dead in the arena."

       "How are you better off dead?"

       "Because before you're Reaped, the Capitol has no fucking clue who you are!" Haymitch exclaims. "You're just a number in the population records that they keep, someone who labors for their benefit, far removed from their gaze.  Once they know your name it's over.  They own you in a way you could never imagine.  Nothing is safe after that moment, not your family, not your body, and sure as hell not your mind.  You see this?" Haymitch asks, pointing to his still black and blue eye.

       "Yeah, I see it."

       "I got that when I walked off the train last week.  One of the Tributes father's hit me in the eye because I couldn't bring their kid home alive. Try dealing with the fact that you can't save two kids every year for twenty years, and tell me how your conscience feels afterwards.  Try sleeping at night."

     This was the deepest conversation I had ever had with Haymitch Abernathy, and in only moments I could sympathize with him.  I could understand his need to drown himself in liquor.  "I'm sorry for what I said last week," I tell him, "about not caring for the kids."

     He waves my apology off. "No, you're probably right to despise me about that.  There was probably a time right after I won that I put everything I could into mentoring. But then my Tributes died, and then they died again.  I lost the will to give them false hope."

     "It would be false hope," I agree.  "Twelve either sends malnourished miner's kids, or merchant's kids who couldn't survive in the wild to save their lives, which we all end up seeing proven true. None of us stand a chance against the careers."

     "Don't be so modest kid. You and that girl of yours could probably give them a run for their money. Everyone knows you hunt. I wish I could have one of you as Tributes."

     "That feeling isn't mutual," I practically roar.

     "Again, point taken."

     "You said you had things to tell me that I couldn't imagine.  So far everything you've said isn't new.  We don't need to reminisce about how awful the Games are."

     Haymitch looks at me now like he pities me, and that immediately puts me on edge.  "You want shock value?  How about the fact that the Capitol killed your Father."

      He has my attention now.  "My Father died in a mining accident."

       "Your Father died in a mine, but what killed him was no accident."

       I'm on my feet without realizing it, chair thrown back and hand gripping the table in front of mean, jolting my already tender fingers.  "Abernathy, what the hell are you talking about?"

       "You see this place," he says pointing to the room and passage around us.  "You're not the first person in the history of the District who has thought of rebelling against the Capitol.  This place was started before I was in the Games. The tunnel goes for miles and miles towards the coast.  No one ever got to finish it though."

       "Why not?"

        "Capitol got wind of the plan for the miners to attack the Peacekeepers, and move the women and children out of the District somehow.  They never found out about this tunnel, but it didn't matter.  The next day the miners went to work, but half of them never made it out again.  The Capitol wiped out most of the conspirators and made the whole thing look like an accident."

     "How the hell do you know this? How do you know it wasn't an accident?"

     "Years spent in the Capitol with people who can't hold their liquor as well as I can," Haymitch answers.

       "That's fine and all, but as far as I know my Father wasn't planning a rebellion before he died."

       "Kid after that first time, Snow wasn't going to just wait for another plan to be hatched against him. He started using mining accidents as a way to control the Seam, whittle away at the population of its strongest men."

       "So my Father, Katniss' Father..."

     "Were just potential threats that needed to be eradicated."

     At this point I can feel the blood pumping through my veins.  I spin on my heels and begin pacing around the small room.  I want to hit someone, something, but I stop myself because I know it won't help anything.  The thought of having to tell my Mother and Katniss the truth of this physically pains me inside.

     "What about what happened to me?" I ask spinning back around.  "Was the explosion planned?" I need to know if someone intentionally tried to murder me.

     Haymitch shakes his head. "No, that was really an accident.  Plenty of people saw the lightning strike the tank.  The Capitol may able to control the weather in the arena, but not out here."

     "That's comforting," I snort.  "If it had been then I would have a reprieve for a while from attempts on my life."

     "Yeah, well welcome to life in District 12."

     "So that's what you wanted to tell me," I say, retaking my seat.  "That my father was murdered."

     "No, I really brought you out here because I need to know how far you're willing to go."

     "Go where?" I ask, confused.

     "To end President Snow and the Capitol." 

       This was the most serious I had ever seen Haymitch Abernathy.  His eyes were cold and most surprisingly he looked sober.  I could also tell that he realized the pure danger of what he was talking about.  His hands were balled into fists, but they shook against where they sat on the table, and his lips were mashed together.

       "I'm willing to give my life for it, but what is this to you?" I demand, needing to know his motivation.  "I have brothers and a sister the Capitol can take for their Games.  I've had my father murdered if what you say is true. So they make you mentor Tributes every year, and that sucks, but to the point where you're willing to commit treason?"

       "You're right, I have nothing to lose anymore," Haymitch growls.  "That's because it's already been taken from me. Do you really think that we all want to go back to the Capitol every year, or be their showpieces? They make all of the Victors realize early on that you don't say no.  They make sure that they prove we're powerless against them.  And our families pay the price for our refusal. My family paid the price."

       I feel stupid for being presumptuous.  I realize I know nothing about Haymitch Abernathy truly, other than what everyone else is District 12 can see.  We write him off as a drunk, and rich, and we look no deeper than that.  However, looking at the pain in his face, there are things that haunt him beyond the Games.  The things that I fear for my family, he has already experienced.

       "Your family was murdered?"  Haymitch nods at me but can't form words.  "I'm sorry for that."

       "It isn't just me," he explains.  "Many of the Victors have lost family members, or at the least had them threatened. Some of the Victors have been turned into the Capitol's playthings just to keep their family safe. Being an attractive Victor isn't advisable."  I actually shutter at that statement, getting the implication.

       "Is there something happening in the other Districts, some sort of plan?"

   "District 11 is a time bomb waiting to explode," Haymitch pounds his fist on the table for emphasis. "That boy, Thresh, his family was taken to the Capitol and how long they'll live I have no clue. I'm in contact with a fellow Victor from 11, a friend of mine.  The whole District is under curfew, and the Peacekeepers are beating and hanging people for the fun of it.  It's only a matter of time before something happens there."

     "How far away from us is District 11?"  The Capitol doesn't want us knowledgeable about all of the aspects of Panem. They only teach us things that they deem necessary, and geography of the Districts isn't one of those things.

     "Not far to the South," Haymitch reveals.  "If fighting breaks out there, it won't be long before the Capitol turns its eye on us."

     "What about the other Districts? Do they sympathize with us?"

     "Besides 1 and 2, pretty much. District 4 is split, but I think their Victors could sway the rest.  The real problem is the Districts that surround the Capitol. District 3 would be invaluable to a rebellion, but they border the Capitol and the Career Districts. They would be beaten into submission first."

       "We'd have to move them first then," I put forward.  "Gather our strength together."

       "Easier said than done," Haymitch laughs darkly, "not that I don't agree. The problem is we're strapped for time."

       "How so?"

     "Snow is pissed. A Victor manhandled a representative of the Capitol on the national broadcast.  He's going to take it out on the children in the Districts in the Quarter Quell."

       "You know this for a fact?" I ask desperately, knowing what this means for Rory, Katniss and Prim.

       Haymitch nods. "We have some friends in the Capitol, who have said as much.  They doubled the amount of Tributes during my Quell, so we can only guess how far Snow is willing to go this time.  But I think it's pretty clear he's going to go too far and spark a war with whatever he does."

     "And we'd be more of a threat if we were able to synchronize our response with the other Districts then if we all went our own way."

     "Exactly," Haymitch confirms.  "Which means we only have months before they announce the Quell during the Victory Tour to come up with something."

     "There are other problems though, that I don't see solutions for," I state.  "We may be able to take on Peacekeepers if we use the strength of our numbers, but that won't stop the Capitol's other weapons. We start fighting and they bring in hovercrafts and jets to turn us into District 13."

     Haymitch actually smiles at that, and I can't in any way fathom why.  "Kid, it's funny you should bring up District 13."

    

      

       

 

 

 


End file.
